


Bow Practice and Confessions

by BluePassion



Series: Fire Emblem Erotica [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Byleth is hopeless, Claude’s a little shit, Desk Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Power Dynamics, student teacher relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 17:50:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20295544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluePassion/pseuds/BluePassion
Summary: Byleth isn’t good with a bow, and who better to teach her than the master archer and tactician of her class? The only problem, of course, is that she can’t quiet seem to concentrate on the bow when he’s so close to her.Or: Claude fucks Byleth at her desk.





	Bow Practice and Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> Not much more than on the tin. I’m imagining this takes place post time skip- so when students can actually teach you things.

She wasn’t good with a bow.

They hung heavy in her hands, awkward and too large, too slow. Weirdly shaped, hard to hold, and most importantly much slower than a sword. She hated them.

She wasn’t awful either though: there were no tragic accidents in her past, no arrows going through windows even. Most of her arrows hit...somewhere on her target and once she had even managed to hit a bullseye! 

Though by no stretch of the imagination was she good with a bow either. She certainly would never be picked to go hunting with it, and there was no way she was going to pick the awkward (in her hands) weapon in a fight.

Luckily she was getting better though- you never knew when you had to pass up the grace of a sword for the range of an arrow sent dashing through the air.

Like right now, for instance. Despite the bitter winds of the Harvest Moon her arrow stood proud and sharp only half an inch from the center. It’s companions also were clustered around a half inch or an inch (or maybe three) from the bullseye. She was definitely getting better. 

Taking a deep breath she steadied herself; draw the arrow back when inhaling and, when exhaling-

“You’ve got this, Professor.” Your ‘instructor’ says, warm hand on her bicep. She didn’t have to turn to see his smile but she could hear the grin in his words. It didn’t help her right now though.

-let it fly. 

The arrow landed hard with a ‘thunk’ into the ground, inches from the target.

“Oh, come on teach! Don’t start slacking on me now!” The student teases, a wide smirk on his sharp features. His eyes glint with a mirth that borders on cold and, well, the professor finds it even more distracting then his hand on her arm a second ago. 

“Claude I am your professor remember- you probably don’t want to bring up ‘slacking off’ to me.” She teases back, dropping the bow to the ground and earning a disgruntled whine from the boy.

“I am thankful for all your help practicing though.” She adds as he kneels in front of her, scooping up the training bow and the left over arrows.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome for me spending up my free time to help guide the wayward and the weak.” He shoots, standing up. He takes a step closer and the newly made professor glowers at him- how dare he be so much taller than her. 

‘How dare he’ seems to be one of the only thing she can think of when it comes to him lately. How dare he be such a smart and dedicated young leader but such a lousey student. How dare he be so charming to try and get out of any punishment for it- and how dare it kind of work. How dare, well, how dare he be so close right now when the sun is beginning to set behind him and how dare he really be so many inches taller than her and how dare he smell so good and-

She sucks in a harsh breath, closes her eyes, and prays for the Goddess to take her right then. She settles for having to let out a long exhale and hope he doesn’t see her blush. “Let’s go eat; I’m sure the other students are still in the dining hall.” She whispers, putting one hand on his side as she begins to move pass.

She’s four long steps away from the training field when she realizes he hasn’t moved. 

She’s six long steps when she hears him speak.

“What if we...went back to the classroom instead?”

Her cheeks burn with a blush now and even in the light of the sunset, when his brown skin glows in the light, she can see the blush across the bridge of his nose. 

“Claude, I-“ 

Her stomach growls and they both laugh and the tension (that she doesn’t want to give a name to) breaks. 

They end their time together for the day an hour later on opposite sides of the dining table surrounded by the other students of her class. 

——-

It’s two days later, the end of the Harvest Moon season, when they have a moment alone.

Or more accurately when her moment alone grading tests is interrupted by Claude (who’s supposed to be cleaning stables with Hilda right now) walks into the room. 

“Professor Byleth.” He says, no teasing in his voice now- he sounds different, she thinks. Like there’s a real leader under there.

She looks up from the work she’s doing to give him a perplexed look. Not only does he sound different he’s pretty much never addressed her so formally- if ever. 

“Yes Claude?”

He’s tense: from the way he’s standing (feet shoulder with apart, back straight, head high- like he’s facing a monster), to the way his hands are across his chest, to the words he says. It’s so obvious it hurts. 

“I-I don’t think I can be your student anymore.” The words tumble out of him like he’s speaking with rocks in his mouth and they hit her like a ton of bricks.

“Excuse me?” 

She whispers, finding herself leveling him a glare. It’s rare she’s so angry and normally it’s well deserved- usually for bandits cruel to townsfolks or thieves stealing from the innocent or unexpected. Why is she so angry now?

Claude isn’t looking at her she realizes; he’s looking right above her, at the wall behind her. Suddenly he’s interested in wood grain. 

His fists curl and uncurl from their spot bundled against his chest.

He doesn’t say anything else, his jaw set firmly closed.

“What do you mean you can’t be my student Claude?” She hisses, spitting fire. The papers still in her hand fall to the desk as she pushes herself up, hands wide on the desk. 

Claude is still staring hard at the wood behind her but now he’s talking at least. 

“I can’t. I can’t do this everyday. Not after the storage area or the field. I can’t focus on anything.”

Both their cheeks burn with a blush now as they recall, vividly, the kiss they shared after the latest battle. They had (wine coursing through them) found the time between celebrating to...celebrate privately. 

A single kiss that had sparked weeks of tension and teasing (mainly the former from her part and the latter from his). Tension that bubbled again the other day practicing with the bow. 

Byleth sets a gaze on him and she’s not sure exactly what it shows but she hopes its anger and not the crushing weight she feels. Her words tumble out in a whisper instead of the roar she wishes she could muster.

“I can’t stop you from what you want.”

Claude laughs and the sound is devoid of mirth. It hurts. 

He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out, and instead he turns to walk away. He gets exactly seven small steps away from the desk-

Before he changes his mind, turns around, and cups his professor’s face in one hand and runs his other through her tousled blue locks. And kisses her. 

God he kisses her!

It burns and it sings and it explodes and she’s pressing hard into the desk to try and get even more of the taller archer, a whine bubbling into the kiss.

His hands are calloused, and rough, and she knows this from all the quick touches he’s peppered her with- a hand on her shoulder or arm during practice, a quick pat to the thigh when he got up from dining next to her, but this....

She nuzzles into the rough hand at the back of her head (why did she do that??) and he tightens his grip, tugging her closer into the kiss. Tugging her so hard her waist burns as it digs into the desk. Tugging her so hard she’s going to go dizzy and 

Then he pulls away, a smile so familiar on his face she feels like she’s going to cry. His hands are still wrapped around her, holding her like if he stops she’ll disappear, holding her just like she wants.

“I didn’t know you were so needy for me, teach.” He smirks, a sharp look in his eye. The hand in her hair tightens and he grins even wider. “Why don’t you say out loud how bad you need you me.”

Her cheeks burn red hot like coals. “Claude!” She hisses, though even to her ears it sounds strangely like a whine. 

The hand cupping her chin drops away and she fills with a hot pathetic emptiness as soon as it’s gone. “Claude!” She hisses again, glaring at him. 

“Come on, Professor.” He taunts, leaning in and whispering against her ear, his teeth trailing against her earlobe. “Say. It.” 

She shivers, a hand shooting out from the desk to grab at his jacket so she stays upright. “Claude...”

That grin hasn’t left his face; he’s the cat that got the mouse and he knows it. She’s dangling between his claws, his teeth, his entire presence. 

“Say it.” It’s an order this time and dammit she despises how wet it makes her feel- her stomach is a fiery puddle and everything he does makes it so much damn worse. 

“I....I want you too.” The words tumble out of her, dancing in the warmth of her desire and embarrassment. 

His hand clutches her chin again and he darts in to place a small kiss against her nose. “Good girl.” 

She blushes deeply, darkly, so hard it hurts. 

The words dance out of his mouth like they’re natural, like they’re something he’s always said, but this is definitely the first time he’s said it to her. She knows immediately, by the way she’s ready to explode any second now at the slightest touch, that it won’t be the last.

He moves around the desk, pressing a hand into her back. “Stay like this for a second Professor; I’m stealing your chair.” 

She huffs, laughing, and let’s him get himself comfy in her chair before she turns around to face him. “What are you doing?” She asks, chuckling.

He coughs, a blush creeping on his own features now. “I...”

She raises an eyebrow, her stomach still doing flips, heart still racing. “Well? If you’re going to take charge do it then.”

He laughs, those calloused hands running over the leathers she wore (burning through them). He looped his thumbs under the waistband and, as she sucked in a sharp breath, yanked them down. 

He waisted no time gazing and fawning at her- not that he didn’t want to but she wouldn’t let him. There was time for that when they were not in her unlocked classroom. 

No, instead, she found a courage that only existed when she was soaking through her small clothes and began to tug at his own pants. “I need it quick.” She hisses, and he has to chuckle to make sure he can still breathe.

Moments later he has to kiss her (any part he can grab) to keep his head from exploding- her hand, her wrist, her stomach, her side, her thigh, back to her fingers again. Anything to keep from dying on the spot with his cock so hard and out in the open; so close to her entrance yet so far away. 

Not for much longer though. 

“Claude,” She hisses, hands on his shoulders. “Have you ever done this before?” 

Claude nods. “Don’t worry professor: you’re not robbing me of my virginity. If you were I would make sure to say thank you.” His hands find her hips, guiding her into his lap. For each word he finds his confidence, his rhythm, and he keeps talking. 

“What about yourself professor? Have you ever gotten fucked by a student?” He teases, kissing her stomach and her sides as one hand falls to her lower back to guide her aching cunt to his waiting cock. “Have you ever been anybody else’s ‘good girl’?” 

She has to bite her lip to keep from sticking out her tongue. Even if it wasn’t for his ridiculousness she would have had a hard time talking- neither of them know how to wait so his cock is teasing her entrance already, sliding against her without hesitation. 

Her hands dig into him tight as her hips grind hard against his hard cock. “You didn’t answer my question.” He says, in between fevered kisses against her neck and jawline.

The teacher hisses, biting at his shoulder to keep quiet; she didn’t need any sounds they made to spill away from the desk let alone the still ajar classroom doors.

The angry hiss turns into a breathy purr as he eases into her with relish and desire so thick it hurts- or maybe that’s just his size. “I am not a virgin but no you little- ah, monster, I’ve never d-ah! Done this before!”

He doesn’t say anything, just chuckles underneath his breath. It fills her with a wine heavy pleasure to see the chatterbox robbed of words (and even coherent thought). 

The archer’s calloused hands grab hard at her hips, tugging her down and closer to him so their stomachs touch; thrusting his cock deep inside her, filling her with fire and electricity and poison all at once. 

She rocks hard against him, savoring each inch as it burns up her insides. Her stomach’s melting, her cunt is on fire, and she can hardly think straight. Hell she can hardly focus on the staggered shaky breaths she’s trying her best to take.

It only gets worse as each inch of his cock goes further inside of her; her brain is a foggy mess. The only thing she sees are the light in his eyes and the golden cloak on his shoulders. She misses the wolf smirk on his face.

The professor has to admit though that the boy definitely knows what he’s doing. For some reason she hates that. She hates that he’s really good at this; that she is hardly hanging on is a testament to something she doesn’t like. 

He’s deep inside her and somehow that shocks her; when did that happen? But when was he not inside her? How could she have lived with, and without, the agonizing fullness of his warm cock before this? She feels him in every minute movement, between each breath.

God she can hardly breathe she’s so full!

The head of his cock presses against her walls, stays that for a white hot second, and yanks backwards: suddenly teasing her entrance again. The noise she makes is inhuman, humiliating, and thankfully he covers her mouth with a kiss. They’d hardly done that this entire time (she was sure she’s have marks she’d have to cover up from when he was keeping his mouth busy).

He kisses hard and fast, like the bolt of an arrow hitting against the sun warmed wood of a target.

Her orgasm doesn’t come too much later than that. It bubbles up inside her, tightening every inch of her body, and somehow seeps deeper into her core- a pleasure so intense she knows she’s never had it’s equal. 

His mouth presses into hers in another kiss and she can feel him whisper something filthy into it, thrusting himself hard inside of her. He fills her pussy and he claims her mouth, his hands dig into her hips and hers into his shoulders, and she comes- completely consumed by him. 

It’s moments (or maybe minutes) later when the fog begins to lift in her brain, which only makes it heavy on her shoulders. She ends up resting it on the archer’s shoulders, dimly aware of the warmth of his cum mixed with hers, but the only thing she can think of is archery. 

Somewhere, somehow, this must have been all part of his plan- practice, practice, practice with her. Draw her back tightly with a strength and skill that’s deceptive and then release with ferocity.

She’d have to get him back.


End file.
